


Allergic to Love

by Ki_Ken_Tai_Ichi



Series: Kylux Positivity Week (the 3rd) [1]
Category: Star Wars - All Media Types, Star Wars Sequel Trilogy
Genre: Allergies, Awkward Kylo Ren, But not of any the main characters, Flowers, I am fascinated by the tech of Starkiller so I ended up doing a stupid amount of research on it, I tried not to put too much into the story though because this is a fanfic not a thesis, Implied/Referenced Torture, Kylux Positivity Week (Star Wars), Language of Flowers, M/M, Post-Canon, Post-Star Wars: The Force Awakens, Pre-Canon, Pre-Star Wars: The Force Awakens, Starkiller Base (Star Wars), Suspicious Armitage Hux, Torture, Victorian Meanings, Waterboarding briefly mentioned, egregious descriptions of various flowers, events of Hux Comic mentioned, no matter how much Hux would probably prefer it to be that way, you know the one he and Kylo were stranded
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-03-07
Updated: 2021-03-07
Packaged: 2021-03-12 18:41:21
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,816
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29888865
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Ki_Ken_Tai_Ichi/pseuds/Ki_Ken_Tai_Ichi
Summary: Hux wasn’t sure if Ren was trying to mock Hux, perhaps making an unspoken connection to Hux and these delicate plants, or maybe implying that Hux is unlovable and no one else would dare give him a present. Or maybe he was overthinkging the entire thing. Maybe he should just take the entire thing at face value. Accept that all Ren was doing presenting Hux with plants that -supposedly- carried insulting meetings.Whatever the reason, Hux really couldn't stand these flowers Kylo kept leaving him.(Kylux Positivity Week, the 3rd, Day 1: Flower Language)
Relationships: Armitage Hux/Ben Solo | Kylo Ren, Armitage Hux/Kylo Ren
Series: Kylux Positivity Week (the 3rd) [1]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/2197605
Comments: 9
Kudos: 51
Collections: Kylux Positivity Week the 3rd





	Allergic to Love

**Author's Note:**

> I just want to pre-emptively say:  
> For anyone who aruges that these Earth-native plants wouldn't exist in the greater galaxy, I want you to keep in mind that people refuse to stop illegally transporting invasive species on Earth. So there is absolutely zero-chance that if/when Humans colonize the galaxy, they won't be bringing along native plants and animals with them.

* * *

Fuck Ren. 

Well. Perhaps that was a little harsh. Then again, he was an impertinent little _child_ who managed to be somehow both laughably inept and a genuine danger to enemy and ally alike. How Supreme Leader Snoke could have possibly thought that Kylo Ren could have been anything other then-

Hux’s chest rattled with another sneeze. His throat burned from the irritation and his nose was chaffed from the constant tissuing of snot.

Hux retracted his previous thoughts.

Fuck Ren.

Full stop.

Those damned flowers had been removed hours ago but his sinuses didn’t seem to have gotten that message. The nurses down in Medical swore the shot they’d given him would reduce the allergic reaction, but at this rate Hux was seriously considering court-martialing the entire staff for their utter incompetence. If they couldn’t even prescribe the correct anti-allergen, then how could they be expected to perform triage on a dying soldier?

Hux’s mental write-up was interrupted by another sneeze. With a defeated sigh, he stood from his desk –abandoning the status reports he’d been reviewing— and headed back to Medical for a different treatment.

Really, this wasn’t the nurses’ fault so much as it was Ren’s.

Fuck Ren.

\---------------

It had all started nearly a year ago, when Kylo Ren had first been assigned as his co-commander. Perhaps bitter with the lackluster title, Hux knew he was, or maybe upset about having to spend so much time attached to the Starkiller Project, which probably involved too little senseless destruction for Ren’s tastes, Kylo Ren decided to express his displeasure with a bouquet of yellow flowers with especially frilly petals.

“They’re carnations,” Ren stated, practically slapping them into Hux’s chest as they passed each other in the corridor. Hux on his way to a meeting; Ren on his way to probably break something he shouldn’t.

Ren released his grip on the bouquet, and it plopped down onto the polished floors, Hux having not removed his hands from behind his back to catch them. Ren glanced down and Hux followed suit, wondering if Ren was maybe waiting for the flowers to react in some dangerous way. Like explode or melt into acid or express carnivorous tendencies.

Ren looked back up, meeting Hux’s mildly inquisitive, but mostly exasperated, stare with that black, reflective mask of his.

“They mean I hate you.” Ren said and walked away.

"Lovely,” Hux found himself muttering to an empty hallway. He stepped over the flowers and called for sanitation to deal with the mess on his way to meeting.

The next “gift” was bestowed to him a few months after.

Progress was being made on Starkiller and, while that did account towards some of his good mood, Ren and his knights, a band of hooligans assembled into a farce of a task force, had been gone for nearly three blessed weeks. Some mission about a lost Sith artifact or some such nonsense. Hux had listened enough to feign interest while with Supreme Leader Snoke, but beyond that, a quasi-religious relic really had no business occupying any space in his thoughts.

So Hux really should have been thankful it was only vegetation he received from Ren upon his, and his team’s, return and not some filthy junk he’d scavenged from the Outer Rim.

“It’s aloe.” Ren pronounced triumphantly. “It means bitter, which matches you perfectly.”

Hux really had nothing to say. Ren wasn’t exactly wrong, and Hux saw no reason to refute the claim or give Ren a reason to keep talking.

And yet that’s exactly what the imbecile did.

“I hear it also helps sooth burns. Perfect for when your ginger skin finally sees the sun.” Ren was probably trying to sound like he was teasing Hux, but all that vocoder did was transform his taunt into a flat staccato that bore none of the vitriol he’d probably intended.

Hux could have explained to Ren, again, that Ilum had no sun. He could have gone on to say that while Ilum was near a sun during the energy consumption phase, no one was on the surface of the planet save for the engineers monitoring the cylindrical openings that were antipode to the section undergoing stellar absorption. Meaning those engineers, and anyone with them, would be the _last_ people to ever see the sun.

But he really didn’t want to waste any time. He actually had work to do. So he held the potted plant in one gloved hand, while holding his data pad in the other, and headed back to his quarters so he could take his dinner while troubleshooting the malfunctioning deflector shield protecting Starkiller.

The aloe, meanwhile, was placed on the front left corner of his desk. The shape and color were inoffensive enough, so he permitted it to stay.

A few months after that, and Hux found himself struggling with a particularly rough week. A surprise attack by a small but highly mobile resistance ships had temporarily disrupted their gravity controls. Wiping out the entire group before they could report their findings had been child’s play, but the zero gravity had persisted for nearly 43 hours before engineering could fully repair the system. Not to mention the fire that had broken out in sector 2789-D on Starkiller which had nearly spread to the neighboring sectors and could have shut down production for the better part of the month. As it was, the fire had been contained enough to only diminish work by 17 days, but that was still inexcusable. Another mishap like that, and the Supreme Leader could have him removed from the project altogether. And the threat of having his own engineering masterpiece spearheaded and operated by someone else was enough to make him want to rip out someone’s throat.

So, with all that in mind, Hux decided to vent in a more appropriate way.

And it had taken nearly two hours, but waterboarding the latest resistance POW really was the best option. The spluttering and choking of the captive was uncouth and almost enough to set off the very nerves he was trying to settle, but the wheezing gasps and warbling protests when he lifted the drenched cloth was rather amusing. Even better was when he refused to give away information. The poor lad had no idea that the base he was trying so valiantly to protect had been found and razed a little over three weeks ago. He was mostly being kept alive as a means for the newer officers to practice interrogation tactics they’d only learned about in classrooms.

Hux was weighing whether to go for another round of waterboarding, or to maybe switch to something more psychological, when the door opened behind him. Really, only two people had the authority to enter while he was using the interrogation room, and the heavy, clunky footfalls didn’t match Phasma’s more calculated, regimented step.

“What is it, Ren?” Hux asked. He turned around and dodged just in time to avoid the swath of flowers from assaulting his face.

“For you,” Ren said, his arm still rigidly outstretched. Bunched in his tight grip were the stems of more flowers, though this time it seemed that Ren had gone through the effort to procure more than one.

“The light pink ones are crabapple blossoms, and the big orange ones are lilies, and the dark purple ones are petunias, and those little puffy yellow ones are tansy. Altogether, they mean you suck.”

The silence that sat heavily between them was broken only by the residual hacking coughs of the nearly drowned man currently strapped to the chair.

What Hux wanted to do was tell Ren off from coming in and undermining his interrogation tactics, but doing so would undermine his interrogation tactics. Not that he needed to get information out of the prisoner, but it was the principle of the matter. So instead, like the paragon of discipline he was, Hux took the flowers from Ren’s grasp.

He was just reaching for his lighter, to set the plants ablaze in front of Ren, when the other turned and stalked away. The prisoner’s laughter echoed throughout the room in place of Ren’s heavy footfalls, and he only fell silent when Hux shoved the arrangement into his agape mouth.

Barely a month after that incident, and things hadn’t gotten much better. Hux had been back from that blasted planet for the better part of twelve hours, half of which was spent meeting with Supreme Leader Snoke and killing Brooks, but his head still pounded with a relentless fury. One of the foulest people Hux had ever known, a person he’d spent countless, sleepless nights thinking about how he’d kill, was finally gone by his own hand. And he couldn’t even enjoy it. Not when he felt like he might throw up at any moment.

Medical had promised the concussion was minor and that the broken blood vessels had been fully repaired. His vision wasn’t supposed to be swimming and the floor shouldn’t be shifting underfoot. And yet here he was, feeling as though he were on an ancient ship. The kind that was confined to the seas of a planet, at the mercy of such trivial things as ocean currents and storms.

Hux paused mid-step and placed his hand on the nearby wall until the vertigo passed. He was lucky to have had the chance to shoot Brooks point blank. If he couldn’t aim at a creature as large and obvious as a Norwood, then a human would have been impossible. He’d have to thank Phasma for her help later. He faintly recalled have stashed away from cigars from his last shore leave, perhaps an invitation to smoke later on in the Officer’s Lounge was in order. As soon as he could blink without stars flying behind his eyelids.

With his ears ringing faintly, Hux didn’t notice the approaching footsteps until they were well within sight of his pitiful state. He looked up to see who caught him leaning so feebly against the wall and wasn’t sure if Ren seeing him in this manner was better than a subordinate. Seeing as how Ren made it clear he thought very little of Hux, perhaps it was better this way. Couldn’t lose any respect if there was none to begin with.

“Here,” Ren said and held out something soft in color and texture. Hux squinted his eyes and assumed them to be more flowers. Perfect.

Ren held them up higher and Hux was able to make out the dainty, white teardrops that surrounded the pink center. Adding volume to the bundle, like the full skirts of Outer Rim burlesque dancers, were light purple flowers with rounded petals.

The entire display reeked of being soft and delicate. Was this some sort of elaborate metaphor? Comparing Hux to these fragile plants? All because he had decided to think with his head and not fight such large and vicious creatures while injured? Even when concussed Hux had more sense than his co-commander.

Hux stared at Ren, unable to lift his brow in the condescending manner he’d prefer and having to settle with something closer to flat disappointment.

“Than-, ahem, you did your part getting us off planet. So I’m giving, um, these are coriander and hydrangea. Good work.” Ren intoned. His new mask looked and sounded the exact same as his old, but something was different. It seemed to go beyond just the words, but Hux couldn’t exactly grasp how that could be.

And he didn’t have any further chances to examine the change. After gruffly tucking the bouquet into Hux’s free hand, Ren turned and strode away.

A few months later, and everything was different. Starkiller was finished. The Supreme Leader had enough trust in his judgement to give him permission to attack. And oh, it was even more glorious than he had ever imagined. The shaking of the planet underneath his bootheel rattled his teeth and the beam of plasma energy burned hot against his bare face. The brilliant streak of red that promised so much stretched and reached and raced across the galaxy until it slammed into the Hosnian System and delivered ten-billion-fold.

Even now, nearly three days later, he could still recall the moment with a crystal clarity that delighted him to his core. As of now, he had to focus on supervising the next round of stellar absorption for the ensuing attack. What system would be next? Who would dare challenge the First Order now that it’s been shown just what it could do? Just what _he_ could do.

His message towards Major Bulwhick, head manager to the engineering department on Starkiller, was interrupted with the soft chime of his door. He approved access without glancing up from his desk, half expecting a co-worker with an update relevant to their situation and half expecting it to be Ren with his usual nonsense.

The loud stomp of boots and ever-present scent of ozone proved it to be the latter.

Hux saved his draft and looked up to find Ren standing in his foyer with, he didn’t have it in him to be surprised anymore, a handful of flowers. Like the last few times, Ren had collected several varieties. However this arrangement seemed different than the last, largely due in part to the color and shape of the blossoms.

The round flower stood out starkly for its dark color. Steeped in a dark maroon that was nearly black with a yellow center, it flowed to the next flowers’ shade –royal purple— with a certain grace Hux hadn’t expected. The amethyst like petals of the second flower were pointed and exactly six. Hux quite liked the symmetry and regimented uniformity of that plant. It perfectly balanced the more arbitrary pattern of the third blossom, which was a mixture of the previous two in shape but completely unique in its color. The curved edges of the petals layered over one another, but didn’t block out the brilliant streaks of red that bled across the pure white.

Much more his style, not that he was going to admit Ren having done something commendable.

“Congratulations on a successful launch.” Ren said and laid the bouquet atop Hux’s desk. He managed to avoid the tumbler of whisky, but not the datapad Hux had been working on. Though Hux, if pressed, had to agree with Ren’s prioritizing.

And while the flowers were no longer a surprise, the prompt exit Ren made for was.

“Wait a moment,” Hux called out, even going so far as to stand up. Residual adrenaline from the victory over Hosnian still rippled through his body and made his head spin a bit from the sudden change, but Hux remained firm and kept his gaze steady on Ren as the other reluctantly turned around.

“Nothing to say this time?” Hux asked, gesturing to the flowers. “Do these not mean anything?” Now that he thought about it, the last bouquet hadn’t come with a description either. Too muddled with the aftereffects of his concussion, Hux hadn’t even noticed then. But now. Now he had all the time, all the focus in the worlds.

“The dark one is hollyhock. The red and white, amaryllis. The purple, clematis. Ambition. Pride.” Ren recited in a quiet murmur, the words just barely carrying through his vocoder. “Mental…acuity.”

“I see,” Hux said, for lack of any other reply. He had prepared for more scorning remarks or perhaps reference to some perceived weakness. But not…not a compliment. There had been no contingency in place for that.

“Thank-you,” was all Hux could think to say, and he took his seat. He focused on his datapad, though most of the screen was obscured by those damned flowers, and kept his gaze down until the door to his quarters snicked shut behind Ren.

And just the next day, everything was back to normal in that the universe decided to just unload a heaving shit all other Hux. Starkiller was gone. Reduced to nothing. And the reason for it was proffering him another bouquet of flowers. As if a handful of some dirty plants could make up for the loss of quadrillions of credits and years of work and countless concessions made to Hux’s pride and career.

They wouldn’t even last. If they were anything at all like all the previous flowers he’d received, they’d be gone within the month. Sad and drooping and no more dead than they are now, but infinitely more obvious in their decay. Or was that what Ren was saying? These flowers would become nothing. Just like his Starkiller. And just like him.

“I’m sorry,” Ren said, before Hux could launch into exactly where Ren could shove those soon-to-be-deader flowers.

The words struck Hux soundly, but it was the voice they were carried in that stunned him more.

Gone was the faceless figure. Gone was the toneless voice. Ren stood before him now with big, brown eyes more befitting prey than the predator he truly was. His full lips curled clumsily around what were no doubt unfamiliar words, and his low voice just barely trembled towards the last syllable. His aquiline nose scrunched ever so slightly, as if he held distaste towards what he said, but he didn’t take it back. He didn’t try to minimize it or reframe it. He just let the apology hang in the air along with the bouquet of flowers he still held aloft.

Hux looked down at it. There were only two this time. A yellow blossom with the uniformed petals he enjoyed: three in a triangle above and three in a triangle below, layered elegantly and efficiently. In the center was a cylindrical sort of structure, ruffled and slightly orange across the top. The other, present in equal number, was light blue. Only five petals, though it had a larger radius than the yellow flower, that were wrinkled. Interesting about this one was the strange proboscis extending from the center and topped with a small cluster of yellow.

“And what have you brought me this time?” Hux asked, keeping his voice harsh enough to let Ren know he wasn’t forgiven just in case the Force user wasn’t already gleaming the sentiment from Hux’s mind.

“Daffodil and hibiscus. They, there’s supposed to mean, that, I lo- I mean you, uhm, you saved my life, so they’re thanks. For that.”

“These flowers mean ‘thank you for saving my life’? How… _specific_.”

“Yeah, they, um, yeah.” His eyes met Hux’s stare, but they seemed unfocused, circumspect. Stars was this man bad at lying.

And yet Hux found himself taking the bouquet from Ren’s slack grip and holding them to his chest as he walked away. He didn’t say anything as he left because, for perhaps the first time, he was lost for words.

A week later Hux found the next bouquet on the desk in his quarters. It was lovely. A strange mixture of things he’d thought he wouldn’t like, such as the colors of pink and purple and white. But the flowers themselves proved quite interesting upon further inspection.

The full, round pink flower was almost spiral in the layout of its dozens of smaller petals. The white was equally full bodied, but with larger petals that layered and stretched out with rounded points. His favorite, to his own surprise, was the purple. Small flowers that came in bunches, each blossom was five petals that came together in the center to almost a funnel. It was the smell that had gotten to him though. While most of the flowers thus far could only be called “floral”, these purple ones had a strange food-like scent. Almonds and cherries and vanilla all came to mind. Decadent flavors he never got to sample as a child but occasionally indulged in with his brandies and wine.

There was no note, and while Hux had no question as to who left the flowers, he had been hoping, no, too strong. He’d been _curious_ as to the identity and so called “meaning” attached to these plants.

He considered asking Ren about it the next time he saw the other, but ultimately decided against it. After all, how was he supposed to form the query without looking like he cared about the answer?

A week after that Hux came into his quarters to find a large bundle of exclusively red flowers. He got close enough to the desk to make out the layers upon layers of rich red, nearly vertical petals before the first hacking cough tore through his chest.

He’d thrown the flowers down the garbage chute as his eyes welled up with tears.

He’d just barely managed to make the call for Medical before his throat closed up.

\---------------

When Hux got back from his second visit to Medical, he didn’t waste any time in contacting Ren for an emergency meeting in his quarters. It took five written messages and two comms before he got through, and his demands for Ren to head for his quarters was met with a long silence and an ineloquent grunt. Half an hour passed and Hux was near ready to call him again when his door chimed. He wanted to make Ren wait, but decided not to lower himself to Ren’s childish antics and granted entry without hesitating.

“What is this urgent matter you wanted to discuss, General?” Ren asked as he strode into the room, his face pinched into a forced passivity that really was begging for comment. But Hux couldn’t allow any digressions to be made. Not when the discussion topic was so important. 

“I demand you stop giving me flowers.” Hux snapped, feeling immediately silly for saying such a phrase and doubly so for the lingering congestion that ruined his delivery.

Ren glanced to the side, and Hux followed his gaze to the aloe that still sat on his desk and the heliotropes, the longest lasting from the previous bouquet, that sat in a small cup of water beside it.

“I thought you didn’t return them.” Ren finally said, his real voice still catching Hux off guard with how soft and delicate it could be.

“Return what, the flowers? Was I supposed to?”

“What happened to the others? The ones from today?” Ren asked as he approached the desk, ignoring Hux completely. He carefully ran his finger across the aloe, an action Hux himself had done a few times to feel the strange, waxy exterior of the plant.

“Those red ones? I threw those abominations down the garbage chute the minute I couldn’t breathe.”

Ren’s face flushed, perhaps furious over his failed murder attempt. Or maybe he was less angry at the failure and more so angry at himself for conceiving such a piss-poor plan. Then again, that would require some modicum of culpability and he wasn’t even sure Ren knew the meaning of the word.

“I, I meant the meaning.” Ren finally mumbled.

“Pardon?” Hux asked.

“Returning. The meaning. I had thought you didn’t return the meaning of the flowers.” His eyes darted up to Hux, but something about the expression on his face –perhaps the utter irritation he didn’t bother to conceal— made Ren look back down at the aloe plant.

“Meaning? What meaning beyond your complete disregard for my quarters and my person?” He watched the way Ren’s lower lip jutted out at his question, plump and so tempting to- unprofessional thought. Focus on the slump on his broad shoulders, a humorous attempt by someone so large to appear contrite.

“Love.” Ren intoned, still focusing on the aloe. “Roses, those red flowers, mean love and devotion.”

The silence that echoed throughout the room was heavy, and suddenly the entire exchange became a lot less funny.

“And everyone says you’re so smart.” Ren went on, finally looking up to Hux. His eyes were big and dewy, but his full lips were twisted into a grin. “How can you not know what roses mean?”

“Ren, I never saw a flower in person until I was twelve. So no. I didn’t know ‘roses’ existed before today, so suffice to say I didn’t know what they meant. Or that these weeds you keep giving me have any meaning beyond what nonsense you attach to them.”

“I wasn’t making those meanings up, Hux. They’re real.” Ren exhaled, clearly exasperated. Though if anyone had any right to be it was Hux. “Certain flowers have certain meanings.”

“Why?”

Ren furrowed his brows, apparently affronted by this simple question. “Why? What do you mean by _why_? They have meanings because they have meanings. So you can give them to people to show how you feel.”

Hux couldn’t hold back the shrug that rolled through his shoulders, his right still aching from the anti-allergen shots he’d received. “Why not just tell them?”

“What?” Ren actually laughed, though Hux could hardly see the joke. “Is that what your family taught you?”

“No, my family taught me, though tangentially, that you must keep all your feelings here,” Hux tapped his chest, just over his heart, “and then you die.”

“Holy shit, Hux. That’s, that’s,” Ren sighed then. Big and blustering with his heavy shoulders rippling like an ocean wave. The whole nine yards of dramaticisms, as per usual with the man.

“That’s very you.” Ren finally exhaled.

“Thank-you,” Hux nodded.

“That wasn’t a compliment.”

“Well then you really shouldn’t say such complimentary things.” Hux said, determined to frustrate Ren just as much as the man had frustrated him over the past year. Though Hux had a lot of catching up to do. Equalizing this allergy crisis alone was probably going to take the better part of a week.

“In fact,” Hux began, deciding to get a jumpstart on the reciprocal annoyance he planned to enact on Ren. “You may want to consider doing the same with _your_ emotions. It’d do wonders for your control. Or rather, your complete lack-”

Ren crossed the space between them in one bold step and had Hux’s face between his stupidly large hands. Hux was just shifting gears from his barb to a demand for release when Ren stole Hux’s breath with his lips, which turned out to be just as soft and pillowy as they’d looked. Ren’s mouth pressed against Hux’s with an urgency that contradicted his previous nerves, and it only seemed to build as the kiss went on. Hux’s mouth was still partway open from his sentence, and Ren took full advantage of the opportunity, snaking his tongue through the gap and tracing Hux’s upper gumline before finally breaking for the gasp of air.

“I wasn’t finished talking.” Hux said, the moment Ren pulled away.

“I was finished listening.” Ren smirked, and he dove back in.

This time Hux was prepared. When Ren extended his tongue, Hux chased it back into Ren’s own mouth. He mapped and stroked and tasted Ren until the hands against his cheeks trembled. He paused, taking a moment to bite down on that egregiously plump lower lip, before making a tactical retreat. Allowing Ren’s tongue access again before making his move and sucking it deep into his own mouth. Ren’s shaking hands finally fell away and Hux snaked one arm around Ren’s neck, pulling him in closer. Their chests met, and another arm around the waist pulled their groins together as well. Hux could feel the beginnings of something growing firm and quickly met it with his own hardening cock in a shallow roll of his hips.

Hux hated to admit it, but as annoying as Ren was, he really was showing real potential at becoming a pleasurable companion. When he shut up that is. Then again, Hux could think of a few ways to get Ren to start making some sounds he’d _actually_ enjoy. He was just about to initiate a frontal assault when Ren pulled back. His lips were kiss-swollen and most of his neck and cheeks were flushed a lovely shade of pink. Except for his ears. Those were a very tasty looking red. Before he could take a bite though, Ren just had to open his damned mouth.

“So, what I’m getting here, is that the flowers really worked?”

“If I can’t talk, neither can you.” Hux snarled. “So put your mouth to better use.”

“Yes, Sir,” Ren whispered before meeting Hux in another kiss. This one endlessly clumsier for the way Ren was trying to back them up into the bedroom.

But, just this once, Hux would allow it.

Because fuck Ren.

The next day Hux walked into his room to see a potted plant on his desk. The lone plant had a long, elegant stem that drooped slightly under the weight of the pink blossom, which looked nearly liked the folded wings of a butterfly. Beside the pot was a slip of paper, on which was surprisingly nice handwriting.

_Cyclamen: resignation, lasting feelings, sincere affection_

It joined the aloe on the desk.

* * *

**Author's Note:**

> I used the Victorian Flower Communication as it is the one I’m most familiar with.  
> In it:  
> Yellow Carnations = rejection/disdain  
> Aloe = bitter  
> Crabapple Blossom = ill nature  
> Orange Lilies = hatred/disdain  
> Petunia = resentment/anger  
> Tansy = hostility/ “you make me sick to my stomach”  
> Coriander = hidden worth/merit  
> Hydrangea = gratitude for being understood/frigidity and heartlessness  
> Hollyhock = ambition  
> Amaryllis = pride  
> Clematis = mental beauty  
> Daffodil = unequalled love  
> Hibiscus = delicate beauty  
> Pink Camellia = longing for you  
> Gardenia = secret love  
> Heliotrope = eternal love/devotion  
> Red Rose = love/romance  
> Cyclamen = resignation/lasting feelings/sincere affection
> 
> And to everyone who noticed the John Mulaney quote, I’m sorry. I won’t do it again (and then I didn’t).


End file.
